the light

On Sundays, in my front row at Central, I always encounter something beautiful. Not just now and then, but every single time. Sometimes I even lose track of what I’ve learned, when, or from whom—whether it was a pastor, a staff member, or another community member. Yet one message from Pastor Michael, shared in a sermon a few months ago, has stayed with me. It offered me a sustainable path in these difficult times: a new way of seeing those who cause harm, especially to immigrants and other vulnerable people. Their light—their humanity and compassion—is not gone, but buried so deeply that it cannot shine.

For the past sixteen years, I have served as a volunteer immigrant advocate in the Houston area. This past year has been especially hard. The shutting down of avenues for asylum, work permits, and nonprofit legal support, combined with the cruel rise in enforcement, feels like the very opposite of what a Christian community should model. Pastor Michael’s words gave me new language, a new lens through which to see those with whom I disagree. They are not evil. And maybe—just maybe—through my own acts of care and love, however small, I can help to uncover their hidden light.